


Delivery

by Birdbitch



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2980412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdbitch/pseuds/Birdbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few final thoughts before Obi-Wan dropped Luke off with his aunt and uncle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the first time I have written Star Wars fanfic (while actually knowing how to write—I can’t speak for the me of elementary school). I started thinking about this and had a twitter chat with Ryssabeth about it and I made a promise to write a more coherent and thought out thing. I finished this a week or two ago but I’ve been sitting on it because I didn’t know if I actually wanted to post it. Anyways, I’m doing it now. I don’t know if I’ll really write any other Star Wars fanfic in the future.

The infant rested on his chest almost the entire way to Tatooine. Obi-Wan looked down at him, unsure whether he could let himself smile or keep frowning. He probably should have considered himself lucky; the flight was going as smoothly as it could have. The problem was, being transported by one of Bail’s men meant he didn’t have to fly himself, and it gave him too much time to think.

He couldn’t even attend the funeral.

Luke stirred to burp before he turned his face and burrowed it against Obi-Wan’s chest, seeking out more warmth and maybe protection. The thing about space is that it’s terribly cold. Obi-Wan held him a little closer and he couldn’t stop the wave of affection when he saw a tiny fist clench and unclench in a fold of fabric. He was such a small baby—they both had been, and Obi-Wan wondered if it was his unfamiliarity with infants or a symptom of premature and stressful birth. Ultimately, he didn’t care. The longer Luke slept like this on him, the more he became acutely aware of how important it was that he be safe.

"Ben, we’ll arrive in about half an hour."

"Thank you." He couldn’t remember the man’s name and would have felt bad maybe any other time. As far as this man knew, Obi-Wan was a man named Ben whose wife died during the upheaval in the Senate. Just someone who needed to escape the chaos with his son.

It occurred to him at one point that he could raise Luke himself, and in that quick moment, it was appealing. He could have been a father like Anakin was his brother, and he could have raised him right. Just as soon, he dismissed the idea. He wasn’t suited to raising anyone, especially not this little one nestled on his chest. When he reached his finger up, Luke’s hand grabbed for it instinctively.

Well.

He let himself smile.

Luke opened his eyes for maybe the second time the entire flight and it almost looked like he smiled back.

Obi-Wan never really considered having his own children before—it wasn’t done, still isn’t supposed to be done, though really, what order is there now that would stop him?—but he almost wished he could be now. He couldn’t, not really, not if he wanted to keep Luke safe, not if he wanted Luke to have a good upbringing, but it still was heavy on his mind. This would have been the time Padme would have been bonding with the twins, should have been, and in the entire situation, wasn’t he really just an interloper? Still, he loved this small, wrinkled mass, and a deep longing stirred itself from the middle of his chest. None of this was remotely fair, not to any of them, and especially not to Luke. That longing accompanied a clenching sensation, and Obi-Wan wondered whether or not Anakin would have made a good father if the situation had just been different.

He thought, he might have, and it almost made the smile drop from his face as the same unbearable sadness he had had for the past week came again in another wave. Finally, he stood up, cradling Luke closer to him as he reached up with one arm to pull his minimal belongings from the overhead storage. “C’mon, little one. We’re almost home.” Luke made a pleased trilling noise.

“Are you from Tatooine, Ben?”

“No,” he said. He looked down at Luke, who was making himself comfortable again. “But his mother was.”

“It must be awful.”

He didn’t know how to immediately answer. “It is,” he said finally, with a small voice. It was the most awful thing that had happened to him. He missed the man he had called his brother, and he missed Padme, and he wished for more than what was possible. Maybe at a later point he could engage in some meditation, but the most he had had the time for was holding onto Luke like he was a lifeline in a world Obi-Wan no longer knew or understood.

“We’ll be landing soon. When should I take off?”

“As soon as I’m far enough away from the ship.” They were virtually there now, and the idea of leaving Luke with his aunt and uncle felt even more upsetting than it had five, fifteen, twenty minutes ago. The longer it took, the harder it got.

He felt it when the ship landed. “I guess we’re here. This your home?”

“Family.”

“Alright. Well, Ben. Good luck.”

Out of habit, he said, “May the Force be with you.” He wasn’t thinking, and barely paid attention to the reaction to the phrase as he unboarded, carrying Luke in one arm and stabilizing his bag on his shoulder with the other. A few meters away, Owen and Beru were waiting outside of their house, and as he approached them, the spacecraft behind him began to lift off and leave. Each step closer felt like a death sentence. Like he was giving up, like he had somehow failed, even knowing that Luke would at least be safe here, that he owed it to Anakin’s memory to leave him the care of relatives who would mean well. “Well, Luke,” he said, keeping his voice soft, “Here we are.”

“You must have had a long trip. When we got the message, we weren’t sure how long it would take.” Owen stepped forward first, and Obi-Wan let his bag fall to the ground so he could reach out and shake the man’s hand.

It felt wrong; Owen and Anakin were at best stepbrothers, men who barely knew each other after meeting once. He couldn’t help but feel he might be doing a disservice…but then again, no. “Thank you,” he said. “For doing this.”

“It’s family.”

There it was. They were family. Again, he had the sense that he was an interloper in something he should have had no part in.

“Ben, did you want to come in and have something to eat? I have dinner on and it should be done soon,” Beru said. He shook his head.

“It might be better if I don’t,” he answered. “Flying always tends to leave me feeling sick.”

“You’ll be sicker if you don’t eat anything. I’ll set a plate.” She was persistent, and he could appreciate it. She went back inside, leaving the two of them outside with the baby.

They stood silently until Owen asked, “How did it happen?”

How did it happen? Could Obi-Wan really go into that much detail? Could he bear doing so himself? Could he explain the battle, the way Anakin had become so lost that neither he nor Padme could recognize him? “He was against a force much stronger than he was,” he said, finally. “I don’t think he realized, at the end.” It wasn’t wrong.

“And his wife?”

“She died in childbirth. There were complications.” He couldn’t bring himself to say she gave up, even if some might have. She hadn’t; but how could she have gone on, anyways? “His name is Luke.”

Owen leaned in and looked at the infant. “I guess it fits,” he said. He looked at Obi-Wan. “Did he cry much?”

He let himself smile, and it felt sad. “Not at all.”

“We’ve tried, you know. For our own.” Owen was smiling at Luke, too. “I’m not. It isn’t as though I’m happy about the circumstances, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t happy about him.” He reached a finger towards Luke and his face lit up when Luke grabbed it. So this was universal. “He’s beautiful.” Obi-Wan wanted to say that he knew, but he kept his mouth shut. It was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen, but then, he hadn’t actually seen that many infants to begin with. “Do you know where you’re staying?”

“I was going to head into Mos Eisley.”

“Alright. It’s dangerous there.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

Beru came back out from the house. “Food’s done, if you’re interested.” She walked towards them and looked from Luke to Obi-Wan. “Can I hold him?”

His breath caught in his throat. “Yes,” he said, swallowing. “Yes, of course.” He didn’t want to let go, but he did, and the emptiness that filled the space when Beru lifted Luke out of his arms rushed him. He felt lightheaded, bereaved and tired. It was the first time he wasn’t holding Luke since before they had boarded the ship. And Luke, for all of his graces, opened his eyes and watched, but didn’t even cry.

“He said that he doesn’t cry,” Owen said softly, looking over at Luke and putting an arm around Beru’s shoulders.

And he would have to share dinner with them and prolong the time it took to leave. He had no doubt that he would look after Luke—he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t—but the sting of letting him go hurt. He had been able to prevent worrying about Anakin and Padme and even the other twin, Leia, on the way to Tatooine by virtue of having this child by his side, sleeping on his chest and tugging at his beard. Now, he would be alone, almost entirely. “About the plans for Luke’s future,” he started, and Owen looked at him before looking back at Beru.

“Why don’t you bring him into the house? It’s starting to get dark.”

She nodded and, carrying Luke, proceeded back inside. “I could teach him,” Obi-Wan said, watching the retreating figure of Beru.

“You taught his father, and look where that left all of us.” It felt like a blaster right through his chest. “Listen, Ben. Maybe it would be better if you. Didn’t. If you just left it to us. We’re his family. We’ll take care of him. Make sure he doesn’t turn out like his father. I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth, and I guess I can understand it. We’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“He won’t want to stay here forever.”

“I’m not saying he has to.” Owen put his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and frowned. “But don’t you think things might turn out better if he does?”

“What if he wants to be taught?”

“We’ll see then. This must be hard for you, but understand.”

He tried to. He could, if he really thought past the hurt emotions, if he did what he was supposed to as a Jedi. He could feel his face going gaunt. “I do,” he said. He did. It was probably better this way.

“You entrusted him with us, remember?”

And of course. It had a little to do with the location; Tatooine was practically perfect for hiding, either for things or people, and it was at the very edge of the universe. It was unlikely anyone would look for Luke here even if they knew he was alive. It was even less likely that they’d look for him. Beru stuck her head out again. “Are you coming for dinner?”

Owen turned. “I’ll be right in.”

“I think I need to take a moment out here, if you don’t mind.”

“Take your time.”

He didn’t watch Owen go into the house. The two suns were setting in the distance, now, and he watched them and wished he could go down with them.


End file.
